Trial By Fire the Aftermath
by ermintrude421
Summary: The follow-up to Trial By Fire, read that one first, otherwise this one won't make much sense. The sessions Lee and Amanda had with Dr. Pfaff--and more . Rated T for language and sexual suggestion.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are. That and some more that just wouldn't stay unwritten... Grey Fool, this is all because of your review. Thanks for the idea, hope you like it.

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 1 Thursday morning, 9am Dr. Pfaff's office within the Agency

Amanda knocked and opened the door to Dr. Pfaff's office when she heard him say "Come in."

"Good morning, Mrs. King." Dr. Pfaff looked eager to begin.

"Good morning, Dr. Pfaff." Amanda shut the door after herself.

"Well, Mrs. King—" Dr. Pfaff interrupted himself and opened his small refrigerator. "Would you like some ice cream?" He offered her a frozen bar.

"No thank you. It's a bit early for me."

He shrugged, "Suit yourself. You don't mind if I do?" He questioned hopefully.

Amanda smiled and shook her head. "Oh no—it's your office after all."

He unwrapped his treat and took a bite. He gestured to the couch, "Would you like to lie down on the couch?"

Amanda sat in the chair instead. "I'll just sit here, if that's OK."

"Whatever you feel comfortable with, Mrs. King. I'm here to help you, you know." He lay on the couch and opened a notebook and poised his pencil, ready to take notes.

"I know, Dr. Pfaff." Amanda tried to settle in and get comfortable.

"How are you doing—any difficulties at home?"

"No. Mother was a bit upset because I didn't call during the week, but I told her we stayed in a cabin in the Shenandoah Mountains—and there was no phone—so really there was no way to call out."

Dr. Pfaff nodded in confirmation, "Yes, that's how the cabin was."

"I really hate lying to my mother." Amanda was uncomfortable.

Dr. Pfaff was dismissive, "Unfortunately, this line of work requires a certain amount of subterfuge—and you've been working at the Agency for nearly three years now."

"It will be three years in October, so I've got a way to go for that."

"Certainly you should be used to the subterfuge by now, Mrs. King."

She nodded, "I guess I'm used to it—but I still don't like lying to my mother. I didn't when I was little—and I still don't. I try to tell my boys that they should be truthful—just tell the truth—it's always better in the end. I feel like such a hypocrite."

"You've got to balance national security with your personal inclinations."

"Yeah I know." She muttered darkly, "But I still don't like lying…"

"Are your injuries healing well?"

"Oh yeah. My face was mostly healed by the time I got home, and my hand is almost healed, too. My side still hurts and the bruise still shows, but it's getting better."

"Were you comfortable returning home?"

"Oh yeah—it was great sleeping in my own bed—y'know no matter how nice another place is—you just don't sleep as well unless you're home in your own bed."

"Alone?"

"Huh?" Amanda was confused.

"You woke up alone this morning, right?"

What was the man getting at? "Of course. It's been years since either of the boys crawled into my bed after a nightmare or a big storm."

"I'm not talking about your boys."

"Oh." Amanda was still puzzled.

"What do you remember of your stay in the hospital?"

"I was already debriefed. You were there. What are you getting at?"

Dr. Pfaff turned to look at her, "Two of those nights you ended up sleeping with Scarecrow—your partner."

"What?!" Amanda was shocked. "Lee and I didn't … we never…"

Dr. Pfaff shook his head, "You misunderstand. I'm not saying you and Stetson had a sexual liaison."

"Oh. Then what? …" She was still somewhat put out. 'Lee was right. I can't trust this guy—he's sure rude…' she thought agitatedly.

"You and he slept together—as in sleep—as in he held you in his arms as you both slept."

"Oh. That." She couldn't think of anything else to say about it.

"What do you remember about it?"

She gathered her memories and tried to be calm and pragmatic. "Ah—I remember waking up with Lee bedside me in bed—it was weird—I was pretty shocked about it—then he sat up and I saw he was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants—and I figured nothing happened…"

"Do you remember how you ended up like that?"

"Um…" Amanda paused to think, 'What is safe here? Just tell him the truth, I guess.' She took a breath and began, "The Nazis were coming to get us. I was scared they'd take us away and shoot us. Lee said it was OK and they were gone—but I was still scared. He held me and said it was OK. I felt safe. I feel safe with Lee. I guess we fell asleep."

"I see. What about the second time?"

"Second time? That was the second time."

"Tell me about the first time, then." He made some notes.

"It was at the cabin."

"Tell me about it," he asked gently, but with an intent look.

"I don't remember much. I woke up in bed—Lee was sitting up and holding me—I really hurt a lot—I hurt everywhere and I felt awful. Lee said it was because of the drugs and being … beat up." She got quiet.

"Do you find that disturbing?"

"Well, I've been hit a couple of times before this, but this time was surely the worst. My side really hurt—now it's just sore and achy—but well…" She paused and took a breath. "They drugged me and beat me up—and the mean man tried to … well …it was pretty awful. I think Lee was really upset—he kept clenching his jaw and talking really calmly. He only does that when he's upset or trying to keep something from me."

"How do you feel about going back into the field? Could you go back to working with Scarecrow?"

"Of course." She nodded brightly. "That wasn't Lee's fault. Well, it sort-of was—they thought I was Lee—well Scarecrow—but Lee didn't do anything to cause it—well actually he did because he's such a good agent—he's the best there is at catching the bad guys so naturally he'd get a reputation and in the spy business—sorry—intelligence community—and that reputation is bound to backfire once in a while but really—I was just in the right place at the wrong time—or maybe the wrong place—no—I was supposed to be there in the park to meet Lee and TP except it wasn't safe—except I didn't know that—but Lee tried to call—he really did it's just that I had already left and I don't have one of those mobile phones in my car like Lee does—otherwise he might have gotten ahold of me and I could have gone straight into the Agency instead of the park that morning—no I'm not worried at all. I'm looking forward to working with Lee. I mean, we're partners. We watch each others' backs."

Dr. Pfaff was momentarily taken aback. He blinked and forged ahead. He consulted his notes. "What about the time you and Scarecrow slept together on the couch?" he asked.

Amanda nodded, "That was after the other nightmare—about my early days at the Agency."

"Yes, I have the transcripts from the tapes—you said you felt like you did when you started here."

"Yeah. It was pretty tough. I didn't realize how tough it was until I thought about it in the hospital. But I stuck with it—and it's been worth it. Things are better now."

"How is that?"

"People treat me better—they don't look down on me or make fun of me behind my back—well, except for Francine—but she really does it to my face."

Dr. Pfaff nodded and consulted his notes again. "You said Scarecrow hit you…"

Amanda sighed and shifted in her chair. "Yes, he did. But he was playing his cover. It was the Peter Bracken case—when he was supposed to be burnt out."

"I see. So you and Stetson talked about your nightmare on the couch and…"

She shrugged, "I guess we just fell asleep."

"That's all?"

"Sure. What else could there be?"

"How close are you and Stetson?"

She nodded and thought to herself, 'Here it comes—I'm glad Lee warned me about this…' She replied matter-of-factly, "We're partners—and I guess best friends. We work together and we can talk about most anything…"

"Do you see each other outside of work?"

"Occasionally we go out to dinner."

"Really?" He sounded excited, and took more notes.

"Yeah."

"How many times?"

She thought a moment, "I don't know exactly. We're so busy—and then I have my family—I don't get out much—but occasionally we go out to celebrate closing a case—stuff like that."

"Do you date, Mrs. King?"

"No," she said regretfully. "I just don't have time. I mean—I tried for a while—but the job got in the way. I was seeing a nice man when I got into this business. He wanted to marry me. We eventually broke up. I tried dating after that—it just never went anywhere. I don't have time with the job and my family. The boys keep me pretty busy. Maybe in a few years when they both can drive—maybe not. The thought of Philip driving is a bit scary…"

"Are you dating your partner, Mrs. King?"

"Lee? Date me?! I'm not his type." She was a bit dismayed at how quickly and easily the denial and rationalization came out. Maybe she had misinterpreted Lee's dinner invitation for Friday…

"I see." Dr. Pfaff made a few notes. He continued, "Stetson ended up sleeping in your room the night after you slept together on the couch."

"He did? Oh yeah, I guess he must have."

"What do you think about that?"

She sighed, "He's really sweet—he does watch over me—we watch out for each other, really—but sometimes he can be a bit—ah—over protective, I guess."

"Do you resent that?"

"Sometimes it gets tiresome. He always tells me to stay in the car."

"Do you?"

She smiled, "Sometimes."

"I see. Do you consider his sleeping in your room that night a personal intrusion?"

She shook her head, "He was just watching out for me. I mean, nothing happened. It must have been tough on him—he found out I was kidnapped—then drugged—he was really worried—and I guess I wasn't acting normal—the drugs and stuff … So I guess he had reason to be worried. He was just watching out for me, that's all."

"What are your feelings toward your partner?"

"Well, we're partners … best friends … I care for him a lot."

"Do you love him?"

"Sure I do."

"Do you plan to act on that love?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you say you're in love with your partner—"

She cut him off, "Whoa! I said I loved Lee—like a friend is what I meant."

"I'm sorry—I misunderstood your statement."

"I guess so."

"Then there's no romantic involvement between you and Stetson?"

She thought quickly, 'Here it is. Lee was right.' "No, Dr. Pfaff," she replied decisively. "I told you before—Lee would sooner date my mother than date me. I'm just not his type."

"But would you date him if he asked you?"

"Dr. Pfaff, it's just not going to happen. So why should I set myself up for disappointment?"

"You seem to have a low opinion of yourself, Mrs. King."

She shook her head, "No—just realistic."

"How so?"

"I know who and what I am."

"And that is ..."

"A suburban housewife with two boys, a mother and a mortgage who is also a part-time spy—uh, intelligence operative. I'm nothing like any of Lee's girlfriends. I'm not glamorous or sophisticated or—uh—well, how do I say this politely?—sexually free." She ducked her head to hide her blush.

"I see. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"What?"

"The idea of being sexually free?"

"I have my boys to consider and I can't tell them one thing and do something different myself. What kind of an example would that be?"

"So, if you didn't have children, you would behave differently?"

"Oh gosh—that's terrible! I love my boys—I can't imagine not having my boys—they're such a big part of my life."

He tried another tack, "Were you sexually active in college, Mrs. King?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"That's not the type of person I am. That's not to say someone who is sexually active is a bad person—it's just not for me—it's just not who I am, that's all."

"So you've never been sexually active?"

She shook her head, "No, not really."

He jotted down a few more notes. "What are your plans from today until Monday?"

"Uh—today's Thursday, and I'm off until Monday. Today I'll go home and clean the house—do laundry—mother really helps out a lot but it isn't fair to expect her to do it all—so I have a lot of catching up to do—I was gone a whole week, y'know. After my appointment tomorrow, I'll go grocery shopping—then I have to get some baking done—Saturday at school is a PTA fundraiser and I said I'd contribute something for that. Saturday I'll drop off my contribution on the way to Philip's game—we'll watch—his team is almost to the playoffs—then we'll probably go out for lunch. Then later that afternoon the boys are going to be with Joe—that's my ex-husband, he came back to the states after that problem last December—gee, Joe was a case—that's so weird—then Saturday night mother and I will watch a movie and eat popcorn—unless she has a date. Then Sunday I thought I'd do some yard work unless there's bad weather—but the garage needs cleaning out—so I guess I can do that even if it rains. Then Sunday evening the boys need to finish their homework—school is ending but they still need to keep up their schoolwork. That's pretty much it, I guess." She stopped and looked expectant.

Dr. Pfaff was again somewhat taken aback. He had observed Mrs. King's 'rambling' before, but it was very different when he was the sole target of her verbal barrage. He shook his head before he spoke, "You certainly have a busy life, Mrs. King."

She shrugged, "Oh, I manage OK."

"When do you get time to yourself?"

"After the boys are in bed, I read or watch TV—that's my quiet time."

"Are you happy working here at the Agency?"

"Oh yes. I really like the people I work with—not so much Francine—but most everyone else is nice—maybe not Dr. Smyth—but yeah."

"Are there aspects of your job you don't like?"

"The filing and paperwork can get dull—but then sometimes you find out the most interesting things in the details…" she smiled to herself.

"I'm told you're resistant to using a gun."

She sighed. "I don't like guns. They're so dangerous."

"But they're a necessary part of the job, Mrs. King."

"Maybe, but I don't ever want to shoot anyone."

"Many agents never kill anyone in their entire career."

"Oh gosh! That would be terrible—if I killed someone! I don't know how I'd live with myself after that…" she was chagrined.

"Your partner has killed people—do you think less of him because of it?"

"Lee is a trained agent—it's part of his job. He doesn't go out trying to kill people—he's upset by it—but he doesn't like people to know that." She ducked her head in guilt for making Lee's remorse known to the psychiatrist. "But I don't think less of him. I wish he could do his job without killing people—and he really doesn't kill people very often…"

"I see." Dr. Pfaff wrote a few more notes. "What do you think you have gained from your experiences this last week?"

Amanda was taken aback at the question. He made it sound like she had been participating in a motivational training seminar or something. 'Just better answer the question as best as I can…' she thought. "Wow! That's something I hadn't thought about. What have I gained?" she asked herself. She sat quietly for a few moments, thinking. "Well, I've sure learned a lot about the intelligence business since I started here. This was a lot different from the last time I was kidnapped in Lee's place. I mean … I was scared then—and this time too—but this time I could think things through and plan—I got my hands free and nearly got away—and I knew what I needed to do. Just hold on—just wait until Lee came and rescued me. I knew if I held out Lee would get there and he'd rescue me."

Dr. Pfaff looked exasperated, "Mrs. King, have you considered there may be a time when Scarecrow won't come to rescue you?"

"Of course. But then Mr. Melrose or someone else will—or I'll save myself. I've managed to get Lee and myself out of a few tight places, you know. I'm not totally helpless." She sounded defensive, then she stopped short and came to a realization. "Oh! I'm not totally helpless—I guess that's what you meant when you asked what have I gained."

"Do you feel that's something you've gained? Self-reliance?"

"Maybe not self-reliance so much as confidence. I've been doing this for a while—and I know I'm more confident about being a spy."

"But you don't want to shoot anyone."

"No."

"What else might you have learned in the past week, Mrs. King?"

She thought quickly, 'That I can't trust you, Dr. Pfaff.' Then she put her thoughts back on track, "Ah—I guess I can deal with more of the tough stuff that I thought I could. Although I really don't want to get beat up ever again," she admitted grimly.

"Nobody wants to get beaten up. What about the mean man's sexual advances? You suppressed those memories."

"Did I?" she seemed puzzled.

"Yes, you did. How do you feel about that part of your experience?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and sighed in resignation. "Well, it was awful. I've been pawed by a couple guys—on dates and stuff—but the mean man was really nasty. He tried to get me to think if I—ah—had sex with him that he'd let me go. I know he'd just have killed me afterward—he was lying and—I don't know—I guess I'm a bit upset that he'd think I couldn't see through his lies… Or maybe … someone like Francine might have used it as a chance to try to escape … but I hurt so bad—and I knew Lee was coming to rescue me. I don't think I could have escaped even if I had the chance—I never thought of that at the time—I guess I missed that." She looked down at her hands twisted in her lap.

"Mrs. King, you are thinking of it now. That's how you learn and expand your options."

"OK." She agreed quietly.

"Looking back—could you do something like that—agree to a sexual liaison to offer yourself an opportunity to escape?"

She twisted her hands more and shifted again. "I … I don't think so." She answered miserably. "I mean … I guess it would depend on the situation … but … no. Gosh, I hope I never have to make that decision."

"A good agent plans for most any situation."

"But I'm not a real agent—I'm just a civilian auxiliary."

"You're operating like a field agent—you're in the field with Scarecrow on a regular basis—you're Scarecrow's partner."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"So maybe you should consider that sort of option, should the opportunity present itself in the future."

"Ah—I will certainly think about it, Dr. Pfaff," she said uncomfortably.

He sat up. "Your time is up for today."

"Oh," she said with relief.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 9 again, OK?"

"OK. Thank you Dr. Pfaff." She got up and quickly left his office.

Amanda thought about her session with Dr. Pfaff as she drove home. 'He sure is persistent about finding out if Lee and I are 'involved'. Lee was right about that. And I didn't lie. We haven't dated—yet. Friday evening—tomorrow evening. I know Lee cares for me as partners and best friends. But romantically? I'm no Randi-baby. He's got to know I wouldn't sleep with him—so why does he want to date me? Why did he want to date Leslie? She was certainly no Randi-baby either. I wonder if she slept with him?' She quickly shook her head to dismiss the thought, 'It's not my business—none of my business. Besides it's the past. Done. Over.'

She mused further, 'I really want Lee to think of me in a romantic way—I really do. And sometimes I wonder if I'm just fooling myself. But then I catch him looking at me—and he doesn't know I've seen him … I do love him. And I'm in love with him. I've been in love with him for a while—maybe a long time. Oh Gosh! I can't let Dr. Pfaff know that…'

She quickly shifted her thoughts to the housecleaning she was planning for the rest of her day. Those thoughts were much safer.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are.

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 2 Friday morning, 9am Dr. Pfaff's office within the Agency

Amanda entered Dr. Pfaff's office on time for her second and last scheduled appointment with the Agency's psychiatrist.

"Good Morning, Mrs. King." He greeted her politely.

"Good morning, Dr. Pfaff." Amanda sat in the same chair she had on the previous day.

"Have a seat, please," he said as he offered her an ice cream bar, she declined wordlessly, and he lay on the couch and unwrapped his treat, while looking over his notes. "How was the rest of your day yesterday—did you sleep well last night?"

"Oh yes. I went to bed early—I guess I'm still recovering a bit and all that cleaning and laundry really wore me out. And I ache a bit more than yesterday."

"You still should be taking it easy. That's why you were given this time off—to rest and recover."

"Yeah—but you tell the boys to not make a mess or wear so many clothes or get so dirty… Really, the work never stops. There's always something to do around the house."

"Have you had any more nightmares or flashbacks?"

She thought a moment, "No. I don't really remember dreaming last night. I was so beat I just fell asleep and slept straight through to morning."

"Do you often wake during the night?"

"No. Well, unless the phone rings or something happens. Since I started this job I have a lot more interruptions in my life than I did before."

"It's the nature of the business, Mrs. King. Are you still planning on spending the day baking?"

"Yeah. But I decided to make cupcakes instead of cookies. I can use a mixer with cupcakes—my side is still sore, so hand-mixing cookies probably isn't a good idea."

"You could just purchase something and spend the day resting,'" he offered.

"Oh no! They expect homemade goodies—not store bought. Cupcakes are pretty easy—they're just more fussy."

"Fussy?" Dr. Pfaff was intrigued in spite of himself.

"Yeah. You have to put the paper cups in the muffin tins and then you have to frost each one and then put on sprinkles—cookies you just mix and bake."

"I see." Dr. Pfaff returned to the main topic. "Mrs. King—I feel we need to explore some more about your reluctance to use a gun."

"Oh gosh—do we have to?"

"There may come a day when you will have to fire a gun in the line of duty."

"I already have—I shot a pulley."

"Were you aiming at the pulley?"

"Yes, I didn't want to hit anyone and the pulley released the net and caught the bad guy. So nobody was hurt!" she said brightly.

"But some day, you may have no choice, you may have to shoot at a person."

"I really don't want to hurt anyone…" she said uncomfortably.

"But if your life were on the line? Or your partner's?"

She sighed heavily. "I know. But Emily says you don't have to fight rings around the enemy if you can think rings around him."

"Emily?"

"Emily Farnsworth—she's with MI-6. She's a friend of Lee's—and mine."

"I see," he said dryly. "Well, be that as it may—some day it may come down to your pulling the trigger and shooting someone. So you need to train for that day and get used to the idea."

"I know. I'll try. I do try. It's just so hard to shoot at people."

"Why don't you like guns, Mrs. King?"

"They're so dangerous."

"Why do you think they're dangerous?"

"Guns can kill people."

"So can a knife or a baseball bat or a car. Are you afraid of those?"

"No, of course not. I'm just careful."

"You can be careful with guns, too."

Amanda sighed exasperatedly. "That's not it."

"Then please explain it to me—why are you so resistant to guns?"

She thought a few moments. "OK, I'll try to explain it. Guns kill people—I mean so can a knife or a baseball bat or a car—but knives and baseball bats and cars have other uses. A gun has one use—to shoot bullets and possibly kill people. Plus a gun can cause lots more damage in a short time—one shot—one bullet—and you're dead. It usually takes lots longer to kill someone with a knife or a bat. Plus I have two boys—and children—especially boys—are fascinated about guns and stuff like that. They see it on TV and think it's OK to play around with. I'd be scared to death if I had a gun in my house."

Dr. Pfaff had been making notes as she spoke and he nodded. "I see. Let's explore this, shall we?"

"OK."

"If you were to have a gun at home—you could store it in a gun safe. That way—when it was not in your possession—it would be safely locked away so your boys couldn't get at it."

"OK, I see that—but it still makes me nervous to have a gun in the house."

"Does Scarecrow visit your house?"

"Yes, he stops by now and again."

"Is he armed when he stops by?"

"I guess so—he really doesn't make a big deal about it."

"Does that make you nervous? To have a gun in your house when Scarecrow's there?"

"Well, it's Lee—I trust Lee. Besides, he isn't around if mother and the boys are there."

"Why is that?"

She looked surprised. "Nobody's supposed to know I know Lee and that we work together. Not even my family."

He nodded. "I see. So Scarecrow brings a gun into your house and you have no problem with that."

"No. He's a trained agent."

"Do you think if you got agent training that you might feel differently about guns?"

"Wow! Me getting agent training! That would be exciting—of course I haven't qualified—I've been through Station One—twice—and didn't pass either time. So I won't get the training."

"But if you did get the training…"

"Dr. Pfaff—I've been told over and over that "what if" isn't something a good agent dwells upon—just what is—how it really happens." She folded her arms decisively.

Dr. Pfaff sighed and pinched his nose. "Mrs. King, we're trying to explore your reluctance to use a gun. We have to do a certain amount of "what if" to do that effectively."

"Oh," She replied quietly.

"So can you imagine that you've gotten agent training—and how that might make you feel about using a gun?"

"Well—I guess—if I've gotten the full training course—self-defense and all the drug resistance stuff and developing a mantra—all of that—I'd probably feel less scared about using a gun."

Dr. Pfaff wrote furiously. "Speaking of drug resistance, you did remarkably well resisting the first drug given you."

"Oh. Thank you, Dr. Pfaff."

"Do you remember how you managed that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you resist the drug's effects—how did you manage to tell them nothing except," he consulted his notes, "the secret ingredient for your poppy-seed cake?"

"Um, I've got to think about that one." She thought for a few moments, "Well, first they thought I was Lee—they thought I was Scarecrow. The mean man kept asking me, 'Tell me all of Scarecrow's secrets.' I'm not Scarecrow and though I may know a couple of Lee's secrets I sure don't know them all, so I couldn't tell them anything anyhow because how can I tell them what I don't know?"

Dr. Pfaff looked surprised. "Do you mean to say that if they had asked you to tell them all of Amanda King's secrets you would have done so?"

"Gosh, I don't know. I mean—everyone has so many secrets—like where I hide the marshmallows and that I work at the Agency—which is IFF except IFF is just a cover for the Agency—except IFF does actually produce documentary films so it is really a film company… I'm not sure what I would have said if they asked about my secrets."

Dr. Pfaff shook his head again. "So let me get this straight—they asked you to tell them Scarecrow's secrets—and because you weren't Scarecrow you couldn't tell them anything."

She nodded, "I guess that's it. Plus I knew Lee was coming to get me so I knew it was just a matter of time—if I could just hold out until he got there I'd be OK."

"You mentioned that before—you 'just knew' Stetson was coming for you. How did you know that?"

She smiled to herself, "I just know. I suppose it's like mother's intuition—only I'm not Lee's mother—but I just know if he's coming to get me or if he's in trouble."

"How long have you had this … ability?"

She thought, "A long time. It was really confusing. Do you remember the Russell Sinclair case? When Lee was attacked and Mr. Melrose put it out that Lee had died? There was a funeral and everything. I was really sad and upset—but I was also confused—because it didn't feel like Lee was dead, you know? Not that Lee's even really been dead but it was like I still could feel him out there—like he was still around—which he was. But I didn't know it at the time. And it was the first time I'd gone through something like that." She bowed her head.

"Mrs. King, have you felt this connection to anyone else in your life?"

"Well, my boys of course," she got quiet, "and daddy…"

"Can you tell me about that?"

She took a deep breath. "He had a heart attack in the summer—and we got him to the hospital right away. He was at home for a while but he recovered OK. The doctor told him to change his diet—less salt, low fat—stuff like that. And exercise. We'd go for long walks together once he recovered fully. We all thought he was OK—but in December—a couple weeks before Christmas—I was at school working at cheerleading practice—he had a big heart attack at work—I felt him … go." She sighed deeply. "I knew right then I had to go home and be with mother. I guess someone from work called mother and then she called the school because one of my teachers came looking for me and took me to the hospital. Mother was there and they said they were trying to save him but I knew he was already … dead." She took a tissue and wiped her eyes. "I was so sad but I was also angry that they were lying to us—saying he was still alive when he was already dead. That was during my Junior year in High School. I was 16. That Christmas was really awful. But mother and I did our best—and we tried to remember all the nice Christmases we had had over the years. I guess that's why Christmas is so important to me."

"Do you have this connection with your mother?"

"I don't know. Mother's never been really sick or in danger—so I'm not sure."

"What about the connection with your boys?"

"I pretty much can tell when they're sick and when they're faking—but I guess that's normal for a parent. Sometimes I've known when they got sick at school. Oh, and when Philip fell out of Andy McKaskell's tree and hurt his arm—we were all worried it was broken but it was just a bad bone bruise. He still had to wear a brace because he sprained his wrist …"

"Don't you think that feeling will help you protect your boys if you need to use a gun?"

"What?"

"If you owned a gun—you would 'know' if they got into trouble with it."

"Dr. Pfaff—I'd rather I never had to worry about that. Besides—my knowing didn't save daddy—or protect Philip from falling out of that tree—I just knew that it happened. And if they found the gun and managed to shoot it—oh gosh! That's just too awful to think about!"

Dr. Pfaff sighed. "Let's come at it from another angle. You said a gun kills more easily…"

"One bullet and you could be dead."

"Do you know the statistics for shots fired that kill?"

"Statistics?"

"Roughly 237 shots are fired for every one that actually kills. Those are Agency statistics."

"I see."

"So you see—"

She interrupted him, "Does that include practice?"

"Practice?"

"Yeah, I mean you have to practice with your gun at the range every month once you qualify—so that's at least 50 shots a month there—are those shots fired included in that statistic? Because if they are the odds are much higher…"

"I think the statistics measure shots fired in the line of duty—not practice."

"It's still a big risk."

"237 to one?"

"Sure. How often are you in a car accident if you drive or even ride in a car or a bus? How often do planes crash? How often are people struck by lightning? 237 to one is pretty bad odds."

"I see."

"Besides, if the boys found the gun and were playing with it—that's not shots fired in the line of duty."

Dr. Pfaff wrote a few more notes. "Mrs. King, let's talk about shooting at people."

"If we have to…"

"We have to. Now, during a case you did discharge a weapon—but you shot at a pulley. You said the shot dislodged a net and caught the bad guy and nobody was hurt. Why?"

"Like I said at the time—I wasn't very good and I couldn't shoot a person so I thought shooting the pulley would be best."

"But the pulley was so much smaller than a person…"

"But I also thought even if I didn't hit the pulley, the shot would distract the bad guy and Lee or Francine would get the jump on him. And it worked, so it was OK."

"Yes, but if you had missed, or if the bad guy hadn't been distracted…"

"A good agent doesn't play "what if.""

He echoed "what if" with her.

"Mrs. King, most agents never kill in the line of duty. Most rarely discharge their weapons."

"I don't know about most agents. I've mostly only worked with Lee—and I've seen a lot of gunfights and dead people. Ugh! What a thing to say…"

"Nobody likes to see dead people—or kill people—well, no normal person."

"I know," she nodded, "I've met some of the bad guys—the really bad ones—I know they exist but I just can't imagine how a person could get that way…"

"Would you feel more comfortable starting with shooting at targets?"

"I've done that—I'm OK, I guess—but it's still shooting a gun…"

"Would you agree to a few more practice sessions with Leatherneck?"

She sighed, "Yes, of course. But I still hate the idea of shooting at people—even if they're not real—just simulations. They want you to shoot at children and nuns and other people." She looked down at her hands. "I just can't do it," she said softly.

"We all would appreciate it if you would try again, Mrs. King. Mr. Melrose is especially anxious to have you qualify."

"I know. I'll try."

Dr. Pfaff consulted his notes. "You remember yesterday when we talked about your social life?"

'Here it comes,' Amanda thought. "Yes," she answered calmly.

"You said you don't have time for dating."

"I really don't with this job and the boys and keeping up with the house."

"Mrs. King, everyone needs some time off in their lives. You need to make some time for yourself."

"I do. I have my quiet evenings. I really treasure those."

"I have an idea—maybe you could consider allowing yourself one evening a week—Friday or Saturday—and go on dates then."

She sighed, "I might—but again the boys' schedule usually dictates my schedule outside work."

"What do you do when your job requires you to work out-of-town or overnight?"

"Mother helps out. I'm really glad she's living with us."

"Couldn't your mother stay in and allow you one night a week for dating?"

"She could—but I don't want to take advantage of her. Philip and Jamie are my boys—my children. I know I have to work—I want to work—but I am also still a mother and I don't want to make my mother do what I should be doing myself."

"Your mother already helps you out—you said so yourself."

"Yes, she does—but I don't want to take advantage of her. She has her own life, too."

"You need your own life, Mrs. King."

"I have a life—a good life—really it's very full with the Agency and my family—and I'm happy."

"But you seemed dissatisfied with the fact that you don't date."

"Oh gosh! I'd also like to be a millionaire but I won't get that. Everyone has things in their lives they wish they had but they don't. I'd rather think about how many good things I have—a good job—an interesting, exciting, challenging job—a wonderful loving family—a nice home and a good life. Once the boys are off to college I'll have time for myself—though I'll probably miss the boys terribly."

Dr. Pfaff took another tack, "Since your ex-husband moved back to the states—does he share custody of the boys?"

"Joe takes the boys every other weekend—well, he's supposed to take the boys every other weekend but he's so busy with his job that he doesn't always take them on schedule—or sometimes at all." She sounded a bit exasperated.

"Does that upset you?"

"The boys didn't see much of Joe while he was in Estoccia. When he got back he said he really wanted to spend time with the boys—but I worry it's the same old pattern again. He does do important work—but so do I and I have time for the boys—as much as I can. Joe doesn't seem to make much of an effort. He missed most of their games this spring. I'm upset more for the boys than myself—Joe and I are divorced so he's hurting the boys—not me. I see how disappointed the boys are when he's made a promise and then backs out. It's gotten to the point where the boys don't really believe him if he promises to do something with them. That's really sad. My boys are too young to be that cynical about their father. And that's what makes me angry with Joe."

"I see. Have you considered your lack of dating is a compensation—or better competition with your ex-husband?"

"What?!" Amanda was confused.

"You are denying yourself time for yourself to date because you need to prove to yourself that you are a better parent than your ex-husband."

"Dr. Pfaff, that's ridiculous! I've been a mother and father to those boys for almost eight years now—once Joe left for Estoccia I was pretty much left to raise the boys alone."

"But now your ex is back. Would you consider full joint custody—half time for each of you with the boys?"

Amanda was angry now, "Dr. Pfaff, with all due respect I don't think you have the right to tell me how to raise my boys. I understand I'm here to help me deal with what happened last week—and it's helped—really. But when it comes to my boys—well, I'm doing fine, thank you." She thought agitatedly, 'I'm beginning to understand why Lee hates these shrinks so much. Talk about trying to run my life…'

"I see. Well our hour is up. Hopefully you will look me up if you have any problems," Dr. Pfaff said cheerily.

"Yes, thank you Dr. Pfaff. If I have nightmares or flashbacks, I'll certainly do that."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are.

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 3 Friday morning, 10am just outside Dr. Pfaff's office within the Agency

Amanda opened the door to Dr. Pfaff's office and nearly ran into Lee.

He caught her by the arms and stilled her forward motion, "Hi Amanda."

She stopped and looked into her partner's eyes. It calmed her, "Hi Lee."

"Are you doing OK? Everything going OK with you?" He glanced at the door to Dr. Pfaff's office. Lee was concerned, Amanda had appeared somewhat agitated when she had stormed out.

She took a calming breath. "Yeah." She paused, "No nightmares, no flashbacks, so I'm OK." She shook her head 'no' slightly, which she knew Lee would pick up on.

He took her hand, "I'm glad—but you can call if you need to. You know that."

She smiled at him, "Yeah, I know that. Thanks for being such a good friend, Lee."

He smiled back, "That goes both ways, Amanda."

Dr. Pfaff stepped in, "Good morning, Scarecrow. Are you ready?"

Lee scowled, "Yeah, sure doc. Let's get this over with." He turned toward his partner as she left, "See you around, Amanda."

"See you, Lee," she replied as she left.

"Come in, Scarecrow—make yourself comfortable," Dr. Pfaff showed Lee into his office.

"Yeah, fine doc," Lee said in a less-than-enthusiastic tone. He sat in the same chair Amanda had.

Dr. Pfaff made a note of it once he had settled on the couch and retrieved his notebook. "How have you been sleeping? Any more nightmares?"

"No. I was glad to get back home. That hospital gave me the creeps."

"Yet you chose to stay another night," Dr. Pfaff countered.

"That was for Amanda," Lee retorted.

"But she said she didn't need you to stay," Dr. Pfaff spoke deceptively mildly.

"She was just being nice. She didn't want to impose."

"How do you know that?"

"Amanda is my partner. I know her—we've worked together for almost three years now. I would hope I've gotten to know her in that time."

"I see. Did you sleep well the last two nights?" Dr. Pfaff tried again.

"Yeah, I was OK." Lee replied noncommittally.

"Did you dream?"

Lee had expected this question—he certainly wasn't going to tell Dr. Pfaff he had erotic dreams about his partner—but he didn't want to make anything up, either. "I don't remember if I did or not," Lee lied.

"I see." Dr. Pfaff made notes. "Now that you've had a couple of days to think about it, do you have any thoughts or insights about what Mrs. King went through last week?"

"I really wish it hadn't happened—but it did." He sighed. "Hopefully it won't change her."

"How do you mean that?"

"Amanda's an innocent—she's not a trained agent—she hasn't seen all the crap most agents have…" Lee trailed off remembering some of the less pleasant things he had encountered in his career.

"She's been with you for almost three years. Surely she's seen some 'crap'—as you term it—in that time."

Lee shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah, she has. But she's still … innocent. She is always surprised and dismayed when people do bad things. She still tries to see the good in everyone."

"And you don't?" Dr. Pfaff countered.

"I never did." Lee shot back.

"Never?" Dr. Pfaff was incredulous.

"Not that I remember," Lee said resignedly.

"Are you worried that Mrs. King might lose that innocence—that ability to see the good in everyone?"

Lee was hesitant, "I don't think that she'll ever lose it. But she might not be as innocent—she may become more calloused and less surprised at how bad things can get."

Dr. Pfaff nodded. "Would you feel differently if she had been raped?"

Lee's jaw clenched at the unexpected question, "That didn't happen, thank God."

"But what if it had?" Dr. Pfaff was persistent.

Lee spoke through a tight jaw, "Then we'd have to deal with it."

"And how would you deal with it?" Dr. Pfaff pressed further.

"I don't know. It would depend on Amanda—how she reacted."

"I see," Dr. Pfaff replied mildly, "So you base all your actions on how your partner reacts to circumstances?"

"What?" What was this guy getting at anyhow?

"Do you base all your reactions on how your partner reacts to circumstances?"

"What the hell kind of a question is that? You asked how I would deal with Amanda being raped and I said it would depend on how she dealt with it." Lee was determined not to give the guy anything more about this subject.

Dr. Pfaff nodded. "I see." He consulted his notes, "When you're in the field with Mrs. King do you try to shield her from the more unpleasant aspects of your job?"

"Sometimes."

"Give me an example."

"Ah—I needed to meet a snitch at a sleazy bar—a real dive. I went in alone."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"I've worked solo before—I've gone in solo before—I can handle it." Lee replied.

"Why did you feel the need to spare Mrs. King that experience?"

Lee ran his hand through his hair—he was in deep water here. God how he hated the shrinks. "She's a lady," he began, "She isn't used to the low-life's that populate those places. She shouldn't have to deal with their … advances."

"Does she often get … advances when you're working?"

"Hell yeah. Every time I go with her to some embassy thing—as cover—if I leave her alone for even a minute I come back and some joker is trying to hustle her."

"Does she encourage these advances?"

"No. She tells me she's just minding her own business and these guys walk up to her."

"I see. And how is that bad?"

"If we're there for work we should work—not socialize." Lee was getting frustrated with this line of questioning.

"And you never—socialized before Mrs. King was your partner?"

"That's different—people expect a guy alone to check out the ladies—it would look weird if he didn't."

"Do you do that when you're with Mrs. King?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. Our cover is that we're together—so it would look strange for me to be checking out other women." Lee stated matter-of-factly.

"I see. Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

'Here it is,' Lee thought. 'Good thing I anticipated this.' "Yes," he replied.

"What do you have planned?" Dr. Pfaff asked.

"I'm going out tonight with an old friend—just a quiet dinner—maybe dancing."

Dr. Pfaff nodded and made notes, "And what about tomorrow night?"

"I'm still exploring my options, "Lee said with a wink and a smile.

"Can I assume tomorrow's plans hinge on how your date goes tonight?"

"You could," Lee replied smugly.

"What did you do yesterday?" Dr. Pfaff asked.

"I went to my tailor—got fitted for a couple of suits. Bought myself a couple of shirts and ties. Dropped off a load of stuff at the cleaners and picked up a couple of things. I looked for some new shoes, but I didn't find anything I liked that fit well. The job is really hard on my wardrobe. Then I rented a couple of movies and watched them in the evening."

"Dr. Pfaff was making notes, "What did you do for dinner?"

"I ordered Chinese."

"What are your plans for this afternoon?"

"I'll get the car washed and detailed."

"And then?" Dr. Pfaff looked expectant.

"Then I'll get ready for tonight."

"Who are you going out with tonight?" Dr. Pfaff asked quickly.

"Evelyn," Lee used the name of an old girlfriend.

"Tell me about her."

"She's tall, brunette—great figure." Lee smiled.

"What does she do?"

"She's an image consultant."

"An image consultant?" Dr. Pfaff was puzzled.

"Yeah. She goes to TV stations and tells the talent how to dress—how to interact—how to read with more meaning—maybe gives them makeup tips—kind of the modern equivalent of charm school for TV personalities." Lee had listened to Evelyn talk endlessly about her job on their dates.

"Have you been seeing her very long?"

Lee shrugged, "I look her up now and again. She travels a lot so she isn't always in town."

"Are you serious about her?"

"Are you kidding? She's a good date—nothing more." Lee was dismissive.

Dr. Pfaff took a paternal tone, "Someday you might want to settle down."

Lee's answer was automatic, "Maybe—but not today."

"Do you feel that Mrs. King will still be an effective partner for you?"

"Yes," Lee replied without hesitation.

"Do you think she has fully processed her experiences of the past week?"

"I hope so. That's more your department."

"But you said she could call you if she needed to talk," Dr. Pfaff countered.

"Yeah, so what? That's what partners do."

"So you have no worries about her ability to respond properly in the field?"

"No. None," Lee was decisive.

Dr Pfaff turned the tables, "What about your ability to react or respond in the field?"

"Amanda was the one kidnapped and drugged—not me."

"What would you do if something happened and she was kidnapped again?"

"I'd go after her and rescue her," Lee shot back.

Dr. Pfaff wrote, "What if she was injured?"

"I'd get her to a hospital."

"What if she was killed?"

Lee clenched his jaw, "I'd make sure she was really dead—do what I could for her family—and then find and kill the bastard that did that to her."

"We aren't vigilantes here, Scarecrow. There's no room for personal vendettas."

"Murder is still a crime, doc. And if she was killed in the line of duty—well it's my duty to make sure they don't get away with it."

"What if she was killed in a car accident?"

"Accidents can be staged, doc. I'd check it out thoroughly."

"Mr. Melrose feels that partnering you with Mrs. King has made you more cautious."

Lee nodded, "I've heard him say that, yes."

"Has it?"

Lee shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe," he grudgingly admitted.

"You might consider if she's made you too cautious—might you be so concerned for her welfare that you're not aggressive enough?"

Lee was miffed, "Look—before, you said I was too cocky and aggressive—now you're implying I'm soft. You can't have it both ways. Amanda and I are an effective team—look at our solve rate. Billy is just fine with things as they are—and he's our boss." Lee stopped abruptly before he said too much. If he didn't know any better it seemed like Dr. Pfaff was trying to break him and Amanda up as partners—never mind the dating thing. Was this a plot of Smyth's? Was Smyth using Pfaff as his tool? He'd have to ask Amanda what Pfaff said to her—this was becoming surreal.

Dr. Pfaff continued, "I'm just exploring possibilities here. This experience will take time for both of you to process—your lack of nightmares notwithstanding. My role is to make sure neither of you suffers any ill effects or that your effectiveness separately or as a team isn't compromised by all of this."

"Doc I've been through worse stuff than this, and I'm still around doing the job—and very well, I might add." Lee replied.

"Yes, we know you lost your last partner, but it took you several years to recover."

"Hey! That was pretty bad, but I got past it. And it took a lot less than several years. You make it sound like it took Amanda to …" Now he had done it. He'd played right into the guy's trap. Like a rookie. "I think about Eric now and again. But that doesn't mean I haven't gotten past it and moved on."

"Have you?" Dr. Pfaff asked softly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You nearly lost your partner again. You should expect to be confronted with a lot of the same issues you dealt with when Eric died."

Lee was feeling a bit desperate, "Amanda is OK—you said so."

Dr. Pfaff pinched his nose. "Yes, she is OK—but it was still a difficult ordeal for you both, and you both can expect some long-term repercussions. I'm here to help you deal with them in a way that will allow you to regain your perspective—not wallow in emotion."

"Wallow in emotion—what the hell are you really getting at here?" Lee was angry.

"I hope to ensure there is no co-dependency in your relationship with your partner."

"Co-dependency—what the hell is that in plain English?"

"You are partners, and that implies a certain level of trust and reliance upon each other—but you have to be able to operate independently and as individuals as well. An ordeal like this can cause unusual acceleration of emotional ties—sometimes inappropriately so."

"What bull—" Lee took a deep calming breath. What could he say to defuse this ticking bomb? "Amanda and I are partners, and friends—best friends," he began slowly. "We care about each other—as partners and friends. I don't think there are any inappropriate emotional ties here. As Amanda says—we watch each others' backs. I'm not going to blow a case just because Amanda might get hurt. We've been in some pretty tight situations—and we've always made it out OK. We don't dwell on it and we don't play "what if". We concentrate on getting the job done—and living our lives. I have my life outside the job—and Amanda has hers."

Dr. Pfaff nodded. "Just so you understand what the possible outcomes are. We want you and Mrs. King to be an effective team."

"Yeah—me too. So does Billy."

"Let's talk more about Eric. It's been a long time since you mentioned him."

"You brought it up."

"Yes, but you responded—usually you just change the subject or refuse to reply."

"It's almost four years since he was killed," Lee mused as if to himself.

"Yes?" Dr. Pfaff looked expectant. Lee sat calmly with a placid expression on his face.

The silence drew on … and on … and on. Lee wasn't going to say any more, so he just sat there. It was easier than answering endless stupid questions from yet another shrink.

Finally, Dr. Pfaff backed down and asked a question on a different topic. "What do you envision for your future, Scarecrow? Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten years? Twenty years?"

"I don't know. Why should things have to change?"

"Time changes all of us. Life is constant change."

Lee shrugged, "If you say so."

"So what do you plan for yourself in the next year—two years—five years?"

Lee shrugged again, "I don't have any special plans—just keep doing the job. Why should I change anything? My life is going pretty well as it is."

"Do you have any ambitions in administration? Do you plan to be an agent in the field forever?"

Lee shook his head, "I don't want to push paper. Or attend endless meetings. I like being in the field where the action is."

"You're 36—don't you think that you'll eventually slow down? Don't you think you'll ever retire?"

Lee got a distant look, "Even the great ones have to retire sometime."

"Amanda say that?" Dr. Pfaff asked perceptively.

"Huh? Yeah—about Paul Barnes."

Dr. Pfaff nodded, "I see. Paul Barnes was highly stressed and on the verge of burnout."

"Isn't that sort of thing supposed to be confidential?"

"Not if everyone can see it plainly and it becomes common gossip. That was hardly a difficult or secret diagnosis."

Lee nodded, "I hear you, doc. OK."

"So—do you think you might retire someday?"

"Maybe someday—but I've got a lot of good years yet ahead of me. Paul was running the Oz network since '73—that's a long time. My situation is different. It's me and Amanda in the field. I'm not running a string of agents. I don't want to run a string of agents. I like things the way they are."

"Billy Melrose is going to retire someday. Would you consider taking his job?"

"Francine has that territory all staked out for herself. Like I said—I don't want to be an administrator."

Dr. Pfaff changed the subject, "Do you have a will?"

Lee was taken aback, "Yes. I was in the Marines—they make you make out a will before you go into combat."

"Have you updated it since then?"

"Yes, I'm in the reserves—it's part of the duties."

"Who is your main beneficiary?"

"My uncle—he's my only living relative."

"What about your partner?"

"What about her?"

"Is she mentioned in your will?"

Lee was taken aback—he hadn't considered making Amanda a beneficiary in his will. "No, I hadn't thought of it," he answered honestly.

"It's not uncommon for partners to look out for each other that way—especially if they're single."

"I haven't ever discussed it. Eric and I never talked about that. He left everything to Lois and Beth."

"Eric was married and a father—you're not."

Lee shrugged, this was getting weirder and weirder.

Dr. Pfaff changed the subject yet again, "This date with Evelyn tonight, it will be the first for you in a while..."

"Huh?" Lee decided to play stupid.

"It seems you haven't been dating as much in the past few months."

"I don't know. I hadn't noticed. We have been pretty busy. The job has kept me busy. We've been working a lot of nights and weekends."

"There has been little gossip about you at the water cooler. That indicates you aren't dating anyone at the Agency anymore."

"Yeah," Lee was struck by an inspiration, he put a chagrined look on his face, "I decided it was better to date outside work only. Too many complications otherwise."

"You didn't think that way before."

Lee looked sheepish, "I got burned a couple of times—dates comparing notes afterward. It's just less hassle and if I keep it outside the Agency, there's less gossip that way too." Lee pointedly met Dr Pfaff's eye as he said that.

"In the hospital isolation suite, when you chose a movie, it was The Court Jester. Why?"

"It was there, and I like it."

"Why?"

"It's funny—Danny Kaye's best, in my opinion."

"What about Hans Christian Anderson?"

"Too sloppy and sentimental. No guy is that blind to miss how much the dancer and her husband loved each other, even if they did fight a lot, also."

"You argue with Mrs. King."

"So?"

"Did your parents argue a lot?"

Lee was getting steamed—this was none of Pfaff's business. "I don't remember a lot about my parents."

"What do you remember—did they argue?"

"I guess so. But it was more quiet. I think they kept the big disagreements away from me."

"Did you argue with your uncle?"

"All the time."

"Why?"

"That was the only way I could get anything for myself. Otherwise I'd have turned into just another airman under his command." Lee calmed down, and took a breath. "I guess we're just different personalities. We've never gotten along. Best I can say is, we tolerate each other."

"Do you understand your uncle's perspective?"

"About what?"

"About having to unexpectedly raise a child. His life certainly didn't lend itself to a family."

"You can say that, doc. But he never made any effort to change, either. I was diaper duty until I was 16."

"Diaper duty?"

"Yeah—you have any idea how embarrassing that can be if you're with a girl you're trying to impress?"

Dr. Pfaff chuckled, "From your history, I would say it didn't irreparably scar you."

Lee shrugged and looked sheepish.

"Our time is up," Dr. Pfaff announced. "But if you have any more nightmares or flashbacks or morbid thoughts about your dead partner, Eric," Lee winced at that, "Please let me know. Remember, you still have a way to go to process all of this. Both of you."

"Yeah doc, sure."

"And I expect you to talk to Mrs. King about all this also."

Lee was surprised, "Yeah—we usually do."

"When do you find time to talk?" Dr. Pfaff asked interestedly.

"Mostly on stakeouts—it can get pretty dull sitting there hour after hour. Amanda and I talk about all sorts of things. It makes the time pass more quickly."

Dr. Pfaff nodded, "That's good to know. Partners should help each other—that's why most agents are partnered. It helps the long-term survival rate."

"Yeah, great." Lee agreed. Both men stood up and Lee turned to leave. "See you around, doc." He left the office.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are. Then more things needed to be said and so…

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 4 Friday morning, 11:25am just outside Billy Melrose's office within the Agency

Dr. Pfaff knocked on Billy's door.

"Come," the section chief replied from within his office.

Dr. Pfaff entered, "Hello Melrose. Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to brief you on Mrs. King and Scarecrow."

"Sure, Dr. Pfaff, have a seat," Billy offered.

The Agency psychiatrist sat and began his report, "They have completed the sessions you assigned them."

Billy nodded his reply.

"Mrs. King seems to be coping remarkably well. I'm surprised by her resilience. Once she uncovered the repressed memory of her sexual assault," Billy winced at the term, "she made remarkable progress. Not only emotionally, but also with the aftereffects of the drugs. I don't know if you noticed, but her confusion and memory lapses stopped almost immediately. She stopped having nightmares as well."

"Yes, I know. She has always bounced back quickly. Even when she first started—she always seemed to deal with whatever had happened and always came back for more. That's why I've kept her working with Scarecrow."

"Yes, I see." Dr. Pfaff nodded, "I am concerned she is not allowing herself time for her own pursuits—she claims she doesn't have time to date and she refused to consider full joint custody of her sons with her ex-husband," he said concernedly.

"What!?" Billy roared. "Pfaff, what the hell are you trying to do?"

"I'm just worried about Mrs. King's long-term mental health and ability to effectively partner with Scarecrow," he replied reasonably.

Billy pointed an accusing finger at Dr. Pfaff, "You're trying to run my agents' lives!"

"I'm trying to help them maintain a balance in their lives and not become overwhelmed or stressed out. Mrs. King has, in my opinion, way too much responsibility with her sons to allow her healthy outlets for rest and relaxation," he explained patiently.

Billy shook his head, "You aren't married or have kids, do you?"

"No. I was married briefly but we chose different paths so we parted amicably," Dr. Pfaff replied in a self-satisfied manner.

"Tell me, how did Mrs. King react when you told her to change the custody arrangement with her ex?" Billy asked innocently.

"She became angry and agitated," Dr. Pfaff looked affronted. "Really, I've studied family dynamics and she seemed to imply I was not fit to offer my opinion."

"And you aren't. Didn't I tell you to stay out of their personal lives, man?"

Dr. Pfaff recalled the conversation, "You said until they are over this I should lay off their personal lives or relationship. I think Mrs. King has, for the most part, successfully processed her experience and is ready to move on."

"Listen to me, Pfaff, and listen good," Billy pointed at the man and spoke sternly, "lay off Mrs. King's personal life, her children, her ex-husband and her dating habits—if any. One reason she is valuable to this unit is precisely because of her 'normal' domestic life. Her abilities and skills as a housewife have proved invaluable to this agency on many occasions. I will not have you screwing her up about all that. She's managed her life between her family and the Agency for three years now, and she's still alive, still here, and still doing the job and her kids are still normal and well-adjusted."

"Well-adjusted is such a layman's term…"

"Can it, Pfaff," Billy cut him off. "Do you hear me? Lay off Mrs. King and her personal life. Period."

Dr. Pfaff sighed. "An agent's personal life impacts their effectiveness on the job. I can't do my job effectively if I'm restricted in how I treat my patients."

"You work for the Agency, not those individuals. I'm the head of this unit, and I get to decide if my agents are effective or not. You help and advise, but here in this unit it's my decision."

"I could go over your head," Dr. Pfaff said calmly.

Billy met his eye and nodded, "You could, but are you willing to bet your connections and value to this Agency are better than mine? Is this matter worth the fight? Or maybe you're operating under someone else's orders here?" Billy laid out his suspicions.

Dr. Pfaff looked down at his notes. "There was a … request … to ensure Mrs. King was fit for duty and that she and Scarecrow remained an effective team. And if I was to find either of them was compromised by this incident—I was to report it immediately."

"Who made this … request, Pfaff?" Billy asked in a deadly calm voice.

"That would be need-to-know, Melrose."

Billy nodded. "I thought so. I'll deal with this personally." He sighed. "OK, what about Scarecrow, how's he doing?"

"I think he'll be OK—he's behind Mrs. King in processing—but he's always taken longer in things like that. We both remember Eric…"

"Yes. Did you bring that up with him?"

Dr. Pfaff nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. He actually responded to some of my observations."

Billy was surprised, "Has he done that before?"

Dr. Pfaff shook his head, "Usually he just shuts down. This time he actually responded a couple of times before he shut down on me."

Billy looked amused, "How long did you wait him out this time?"

"Four-and-a-half minutes. Then I moved on. It seemed pointless to press the issue."

Billy nodded. Dr. Pfaff continued, "Have you noticed? He's not dating within the Agency any more."

Billy bristled, "Pfaff, what did I just say?"

"He offered an explanation," Dr. Pfaff went on ignoring Billy's outburst. "He said a couple of his dates compared notes and he got burned a couple of times—so he's confining his activities to women outside the Agency."

Billy calmed down. He thought to himself, 'I guess Scarecrow is being more cautious—maybe he's actually growing up.' He spoke to Dr. Pfaff in a calmer tone, "I see. That's probably for the best."

"Yes, I concur."

"So, is he good to go back into the field?" Billy asked.

"Yes, I would say so. He operated well previously—if somewhat recklessly—after his previous partner died—and Mrs. King has recovered nicely so he should be fine in the field. He will probably have more work to do to process—but he'll do that with Mrs. King."

"With Mrs. King? What's that about?"

"He said he talks to his partner on stakeouts. I would presume they will discuss this past week and work through it together. At least he does talk to her—he certainly won't open up to me." Dr. Pfaff sounded resigned.

Billy nodded in agreement, "His track record is bad with psychiatrists. I guess he had several bad experiences with Air Force psychiatrists when he was young."

Dr. Pfaff looked pleased, "That would explain a lot, Melrose. Thank you for that information. I'll note it in his file."

"Anything else to report?"

"Since you have restricted the scope of my ability to work with these two agents, no."

"Pfaff—just stay out of my agents' private lives." At Dr. Pfaff's attempt to defend himself, Billy cut him off with a raised hand, "You go beyond finding out what is going on and tell them how to live their lives. That's none of your business. If they need to change their habits, I make that call. I'm the section chief. You make the recommendations—and I can take them or not as I see fit. Until you become section chief—that's the way it goes down here. Since you can't stop meddling—I'm ordering you to keep out of my agents' private lives. Got it?"

"Got it. But I have to report to other authorities within the Agency as well."

"I'm fully aware of that, Pfaff," Billy said with a dark look. "And I'm going upstairs right after lunch to talk to Smyth about his meddling in my unit."

"I never said it was Dr. Smyth, Melrose." Dr. Pfaff replied.

"You didn't have to. I know the man and how he operates all too well. If there's nothing else—I have work to do here. Thank you for your report." Billy dismissed the psychiatrist.

"You're welcome." Dr. Pfaff left.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are. Then more things needed to be said and so…

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 5 Friday afternoon, 3:15pm just outside Dr. Smyth's office within the Agency

Billy sat in the chair waiting for Dr. Smyth to become available. He had arrived five minutes earlier for his scheduled 3:15 appointment.

At 3:23 the door to Dr. Smyth's office opened and Billy recognized the Agency's chief accountant as he emerged, looking tense. The man nodded at Billy as he quickly exited.

Dr. Smyth's receptionist picked up the phone—then spoke to Billy, "Dr. Smyth will see you now, Mr. Melrose."

"Thank you." Billy rose and entered the sanctum.

Dr Smyth was sitting with his back to Billy in his high-baked leather chair, smoking as usual.

Billy entered and stood across the desk, his hands folded behind his back, waiting for Dr. Smyth to acknowledge his presence.

Dr. Smyth spoke without turning around, "So Melrose, the housewife has once again managed to beat the odds."

"I wouldn't call it beating the odds, sir."

Smyth turned and regarded Billy. He waved to a chair. "Sit, Melrose. I have a feeling this won't be short."

Billy sat and continued, "Mrs. King has good instincts—she's a natural for the business. This whole episode confirms it. She's had no drug resistance training, yet she managed to keep them from discovering they had kidnapped the wrong person, she didn't give anything away and she's recovered fully. How many other agents could manage that?"

"Yes, she beat the odds."

Billy pressed his advantage, "She should be a full-time agent. She's operating like one as it is—working with Scarecrow."

"Ah yes, how's our Scarecrow doing? I heard he was instrumental in putting his partner back together again—too bad he wasn't around when Humpty Dumpty took his fall," Smyth grinned in a humorless manner.

Billy refused to take the bait, "He's cleared to go back into the field."

"But…"

"Pfaff says he needs to 'process' a bit more."

"Ah yes. Our Dr. Pfaff." Smyth took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out smoke. "Are you aware that he's not a member of your unit?"

"I am."

"Are you aware he is the Agency psychiatrist—as in Agency-wide?"

"Yes."

"I am curious then, as to why you would be giving him orders about how he performs his duties within this Agency."

Billy had expected this, "He is meddling in my agents' lives. He goes beyond merely finding out information and he's telling them how to live their lives."

"And how is that so bad?" Dr. Smyth waved his cigarette in its' ornate holder around. "He's a psychiatrist—a medical professional if you will—if your agents have bad habits, I should hope they would want to improve themselves to become more effective to this Agency."

"It goes way beyond that," Billy shook his head, "He tried to tell Mrs. King that she needed to change the custody arrangement with her ex-husband. That is not a 'bad habit'. The woman has a right to raise her children as she sees fit."

"The Old Woman in the Shoe didn't do so well—maybe Mrs. King could use a little more help."

"If she needs more help, she can ask. So far, from what I can see, she manages with her mother quite nicely."

"But if she saw less of her children, she would have more time for this Agency."

Billy took another tack, "She's only a civilian auxiliary. We're using her like a full-time agent. She needs the training. This last week illustrates that."

"But she's flunked out of Station One—twice."

"So? Look at her track record."

"The rules were created for a purpose, Melrose. We use Station One to screen applicants. She tried and failed. She should be happy we kept her on as a civilian auxiliary."

Billy was not to be deterred, "She's half of my best team."

"Yes, she has managed to keep up with Scarecrow these past years. I'll admit that isn't easy. But without a successful rating after Station One—she isn't eligible for the training according to the Agency manual."

"You can authorize her training, despite her lack of a successful Station One," Billy countered.

"I might be able to—but so far I don't see the need. She seems to do just fine without the training."

"Are you trying to get her killed?" Billy was indignant. "Can't you see that if she's this good without the training, she'll be that much better with it?"

Dr. Smyth paused in thought as he puffed his cigarette. Billy waited patiently. Smyth finally spoke, "I'll admit you have a point, Melrose." Billy smiled. Smyth continued, "I'll take it under consideration."

Billy's smile diminished, but he wisely stayed silent.

"Anything else?" Dr. Smyth asked.

"Are you satisfied with my position and performance within the Agency?" Billy asked.

"For the most part, yes."

Billy nodded. "Then kindly allow me to do my job and run my unit without interference. If you have any questions or need to make changes, kindly do so through me, not by going around me."

"I retain the prerogative to take a 'personal hand' in any portion of this Agency as I see fit. However, I do respect your 'territory' and will allow you to do your job and run your unit as you see fit—unless I determine changes need to be made." Dr. Smyth glared at the section chief.

Billy was not fazed, "I don't have that many years left, as it is, Dr. Smyth. I could just as soon retire early, if it came to that," he countered with a threat of his own.

Dr. Smyth nodded. "Just so we understand each other, Melrose, I'm pleased with your performance and that of your field unit."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me." Billy replied mildly.

"If there's nothing else, you can go, Melrose."

"Thank you for your time, sir."

Dr. Smyth waved in dismissal as Billy stood and left.

TBC next ... the big date!


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and cannot be redistributed without the permission of the author. If you want to put it on your site, please email me, I would like to thank you for the high compliment. No infringement of copyright is intended.

This story takes place after my story Trial by Fire. Unless you've read that one, this one won't make much sense. There was a suggestion to continue with the sessions Amanda and Lee had with Dr. Pfaff, so here they are. And finally—the big date.

Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 6 Friday evening, 6:50pm

Lee was driving to the restaurant. He was dressed and eagerly anticipating his 'date' with his Amanda. 'This is it,' he thought. 'After tonight everything changes between Amanda and me.' He smiled and glanced to the passenger seat where a single red rose lay.

They had agreed to meet at the restaurant—a supper club outside DC in the Virginia suburbs. Lee was still apprehensive about Amanda introducing him to her family. 'That will come later,' he thought. 'Right now I need to make sure she feels the same about me as I do about her.'

He arrived and saw Amanda's Wagoneer was not there. He waited in his car for her. A few minutes later, the Wagoneer pulled into the lot, and Lee left his car and walked out to Amanda as she parked her car. He opened the door for her and offered a hand to help her out.

"Good evening, Amanda," he said before he kissed her hand.

She smiled at him in return, "Good evening, Lee."

He produced the rose he held behind his back, "This is for my amazing partner."

She took the flower and smelled it, "Thank you, Lee, It's beautiful."

"So are you," he replied softly.

Amanda blushed and ducked her head, "Thank you, Lee," she replied shyly.

"Let's go in," he offered her his arm.

"OK," she replied as she took his arm and he pulled her close.

They walked into the restaurant. The supper club had two sides, one was a bar with an area for a band and a dance floor. A group was setting up, piano, a bass and a singer. The placard said they specialized in standards and oldies for relaxation and dancing. The other half of the establishment was an elegant restaurant—plush with secluded tables and romantic lighting.

They were seated immediately and the maitre d' showed them to a table in an alcove, partially screened by decorative pillars and greenery. They sat and the waiter came up immediately with menus. They studied the menus and ordered. Lee got a bottle of white wine to accompany Amanda's chicken and his grilled salmon. Once the wine arrived and Lee had tasted it and approved, the waiter poured them each a glass and discreetly left.

He raised his glass to his partner, "To the future, Amanda."

She smiled in return, "To the future, Lee," and they clinked glasses.

They chatted comfortably about office gossip and Amanda's family and Lee's latest shopping trip where he hadn't been able to find a pair of shoes that he liked that fit properly. Amanda suggested an upscale men's shoe store that Lee didn't know.

"How do you know where to buy men's shoes, Amanda?" He asked.

"Lee, I was married for ten years and I've bought a lot of men's clothes in that time. Plus I have two growing boys who are starting to wear men's sizes."

Lee nodded, "Yeah, Joe. That makes sense."

Their dinners arrived and they ate. Afterward they chatted some more and sipped their wine. The waiter came and offered dessert.

Amanda shook her head, "I'm not ready for dessert yet, Lee."

He waved the waiter away, "Why don't we move over to the bar—we can get a table there, finish our wine and listen to the music and dance. And we can get dessert later."

"That sounds wonderful," she agreed.

Lee paid the bill and they took their wine and moved to a table in the back of the bar. They could see the group and hear the music, but they were out of the way enough so they could talk, also. The band was scheduled to start at 8:30, so they had some time before they could dance.

They got settled, and Amanda studied her wine.

"Lee…" she began, then trailed off.

"Yes?" he was prepared to be patent.

She sighed and gathered her thoughts. "Would it be OK with you if we talked about some of what happened this last week?"

"Of course," he replied quietly, "what's on your mind?"

"You once said that Dr. Pfaff has ruined people's careers at the Agency."

Lee shifted, 'What did that shrink pull with her?' he thought. He chose his words carefully, "It hasn't happened often—but it has happened a couple of times, yes," he admitted grudgingly.

"So he doesn't do that very often, then?" she looked more hopeful.

Lee shook his head definitively, "No. Only in a couple cases where people were really burnt out or highly insubordinate—"

"Insubordinate?" she cut him off. "Like how?" she looked worried again.

'What?!' Alarm bells went off in Lee's mind, 'Something is definitely not right here,' he thought. He spoke carefully again, "Well—like refusing direct orders or going off on their own against orders or not following policy or procedures."

"I see," she looked back down at her wine, still worried.

Lee gently took her hand. "Amanda, talk to me. What did Pfaff say to you? Did he threaten to have you fired?"

She looked up at him, "Oh no—nothing like that. It was just … well … I got angry at him and told him off." She looked ashamed.

"So what? I do that all the time."

"Really?"

"What was it about, Amanda? He must have pushed one of your buttons pretty hard to get you upset enough to tell him off."

She sighed and caressed his hand. "Yeah. He told me I needed to change my custody arrangement with Joe—he said Joe and I should share full joint custody of the boys."

"What? Where does he get off?" Lee said in a raised voice.

"Lee—shhh! He just was pushing me and pushing me that I didn't have enough time for myself—how I didn't date…"

"That…" Lee took a calming breath and ran his hand through his hair. "He was on me about dating, too. But we talked about that already."

She nodded, "Yeah. Lee—I'm worried. Will he report me for refusing to consider changing my custody arrangement?"

"If he does—go to Billy. He'll back you 100 percent. Billy isn't too keen on Pfaff as it is."

"OK," she nodded. She took a breath and forged ahead, "Then there's the gun issue…"

"Gun issue?"

"You know I hate guns. But if I want to stay at the Agency, Mr. Melrose wants me to qualify with a gun."

Lee nodded, "I know, I know. What can I do to help you, Amanda? Would you come with me to the range? I want to help you with this."

"Thank you, Lee. That's sweet. It's just … Dr. Pfaff wants me to have a gun at home"

"He what!? What about your boys? That's nuts!"

"Lee, I know. He kept trying to get me to agree that having a gun at home would be a good thing for me. All I can think of is one of the boys or their friends finding it and something horrible happening."

"Amanda—maybe you should tell me more about what you and Dr. Pfaff talked about—if it's OK with you. It's just…" Lee reined in his temper. Getting mad at Pfaff wouldn't help his partner. "You're upset and worried and I don't want my partner feeling that way. You just got back from a tough week—and you were amazing! You did something that regular agents would have blanched at—and you got through it with flying colors. You stayed alive, you didn't give them anything and you've recovered from the drugs. That's amazing for an agent, and you're only a civilian auxiliary. You should be proud of yourself, Amanda. Not worried for your job. That bastard—if he's trying to mess you up, I swear..."

"Lee," she put her hand on his cheek and turned his face to her, "Lee—please."

"OK, Amanda. I'm just steamed he seems to have made you feel bad—when you should be really happy about how all this came out. You did great, Amanda! Really great! Do you know how well you did this last week? Do you?"

"Lee, I don't feel like I did great. I let them kidnap me, I didn't get away when I had the chance, I won't let anyone have sex with me so I can try to escape, I don't want to have a gun in the house and I certainly won't change my custody arrangement with Joe!" she was agitated by the end of her rant.

Lee slowly shook his head, "Amanda, I'm sorry."

"What? You didn't do anything wrong, Lee."

"No. I should have warned you—I should have prepared you for Dr. Pfaff. These shrinks are all alike. They try to tear you down and rebuild you in their image."

"What?"

Lee looked around. They had finished their wine, the other tables were filling up, and the band was starting to play. "Amanda, we need to talk about this, but not here. Would you come back with me to my place? We'll pick up some dessert on the way and then we can talk about this. There are some things you need to know about life at the Agency."

"Need-to-know—and for once I really do get to find out? How can I pass that up? OK Lee," she agreed.

They went to their cars and drove toward Lee's apartment. They stopped at a gourmet grocery store and got two desserts and some fresh-ground coffee. Once they got to Lee's they rode up the elevator in silence, Lee's hand in the small of her back.

'That bastard, Dr. Pfaff,' Lee fumed inwardly, 'He should have allowed Amanda to feel good about recovering and getting through the week. Instead she's worried about losing her job and feeling like shit for all the 'mistakes' she made. Hopefully I can help her to undo all the damage.'

Once inside, Lee set the desserts aside and Amanda settled on the couch.

"You want some coffee?" Lee asked.

"Yes, please. That would be nice," she replied gratefully.

He made coffee and brought it out to her. They sat at opposite ends of his couch, facing each other.

"Amanda, I meant what I said before. You did great this past week. You're amazing and I'm thrilled that you got through it all, recovered and bounced back. I know it was tough for you but I the end I think you're stronger for it."

"Yeah. Dr. Pfaff made me realize that too."

"Really?" Lee said dryly. "I'm surprised. Usually the shrinks make sure you aren't too full of yourself. They try to get you to 'face reality' and to see things according to the Agency party line."

"What do you mean, Lee?"

"Well—as an example—say you have to betray a source—or do something less-than-ethical to attain your objective."

"Like 'sleeping with the enemy' " Amanda offered.

"Something like that, yes," he agreed, "the Agency line is that you have to compartmentalize yourself—what you do in the line of duty is justified by the results you can get."

"So let me get this straight—most people wouldn't sleep with someone unless they found them attractive and cared for them," Lee nodded, "but in the line of duty it's different—you have to think of it as part of the job, and necessary."

"Exactly, Amanda. It isn't personal. That's what they tell us."

"Lee, I can't do that. That's not the kind of person I am."

"I know, Amanda, I know." He thought, 'And that's one of the many reasons I … love you.' Then he forged ahead, "It's the shrinks' job to make you feel OK about it all—to help you justify it to yourself—to allow you to live with yourself despite some of the rotten things the job makes you do." He sounded a lot more bitter than he had realized.

Amanda nodded and looked sympathetic. "I see, Lee." She spoke softly and touched his knee. "You've been through that more than once, haven't you?"

"Yeah—but this isn't about me—I want to make sure Dr. Pfaff didn't screw you up. Those guys love to get in your head and poke around and 'improve' you …" He became lost in the memories of his visits with various base psychiatrists during his youth—most of them had been well-meaning and genuinely trying to help. But their cumulative efforts had contributed to Lee being the emotionally distant and mistrustful man he had been when he had handed that package to Amanda. 'If not for her…' he thought. Then he got back on track. He took a deep breath and returned to the here-and-now. "OK. Tell me about what he said to you. Let's start with letting yourself get kidnapped."

"Dr. Pfaff didn't say anything about that specifically… It's just that you've told me repeatedly 'a good agent is always aware of his surroundings.' I think if I had been more aware, they might not have gotten me." She sounded discouraged.

"Amanda—even the best of us get blind-sided. It happens. From what you described—it might not have been possible for you to avoid being kidnapped unless you ran as soon as you saw those guys. And then they might have chased you. So don't beat yourself up about that, OK?"

She nodded. "OK."

"Now—you said you got the ropes loose and you ran."

"Yes, but I wasn't fast enough. They caught me."

"That's right—you weren't fast enough. You tried, though. You got the ropes off—and you ran. That's lots more than some would have done. You'd been chloroformed—I'm surprised you could run. That's pretty amazing—so again you did your best. The trick is to maximize your opportunities—take every chance you get to try to better your situation or escape. And you did, Amanda, you did."

"Actually, I didn't. Dr. Pfaff made me realize I should have allowed the mean man to … to well, have his way with me and I should have tried to escape then."

Lee clenched his jaw at that. 'He's trying to turn my Amanda into Francine… That bastard…' He calmed himself and spoke, "Amanda he is so full of it for that! Maybe that's Francine's style—but honestly I don't know if even Francine would have tried a stunt like that in your position."

"Why?" Amanda was surprised at that statement.

"Too many variables and you were at a strong disadvantage. You had been drugged—you had injuries that impaired you—the odds just weren't good for it to work. Pfaff isn't an agent—he doesn't understand. You consider all the options but you work with what you have—and don't have. For him to suggest you try that—well—he just doesn't have a clue."

"Oh!" she said in surprise. "I had thought of all of that but he said I should have tried it anyhow… maybe he more implied it…"

"Uh huh. That's what they do—they plant their ideas and suggestions—like little time bombs in your head—and believe me, unless you know what they're doing and defuse them they can come back and bite you in the ass when you least expect it."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"Yeah, well I learned long ago how to combat their garbage. It took a while, though, and I will admit I've been bitten more than once. Now about the gun issue—I understand. I really do. And I'll help you in any way I can."

"I know, Lee. I've tried, and I'll try again. I just don't like the idea of shooting at a person. Period." Lee nodded. "And about having a gun in the house, forget it!"

"I hear you, Amanda. With your boys it's just too dangerous." He got an idea, "If you do end up qualifying, you could store your gun in the Q Bureau—we could get a gun safe there or something."

"Really? Is that OK with the Agency?"

"All I care about is if it's OK with you. Maybe we can get Billy to agree, then it'll be OK with the Agency, too."

"OK, Lee. That makes me feel a whole lot better about it."

"I'm glad, Amanda. Now about this dating garbage—what did he say to you?"

"He just thinks I need to take more time for myself. He tried to make me promise that I'd have mother take care of my boys so I could date. Really! They're my boys—my responsibility. I'm really grateful to mother for helping out and living with us—but I don't want to impose on her, either. I won't push my responsibilities off on my mother."

"Like Joe pushed his responsibilities off on you," Lee added quietly.

Amanda looked surprised, then thought for a few moments. "I never thought of it that way. But you're right. Joe did dump all his responsibilities for the boys on me."

"Not to mention managing the house and what he owed you as his wife. Y'know, for someone who has shouldered a big burden for a lot of years, you're remarkably complacent about it. Most women in your position would be bitter as hell."

"Lee—I decided long ago—being bitter or angry isn't helpful. It only churns up bad feelings and it doesn't get anything constructive done. I like Joe—I love him as a friend—and—what do they say?—friends are people you like in spite of their faults."

"Something like that."

"Well—I know Joe—I know his work will always come first—I admire him for the work he does—but at the same time I'm upset that he doesn't make more time to be with the boys. He apparently has time to date and socialize outside work, but he still won't set time aside for the boys unless I push it."

"I thought he takes the boys every other weekend?"

She sighed, "He agreed to—but most of the time it's not for the whole weekend—like this weekend—he's supposed to take the boys Friday after school—but instead he's picking them up after their game tomorrow afternoon. If he remembers and is on time," she finished tiredly.

"That must be tough on you and your mother. You guys can't make plans because you can't count on Joe to hold up his end of the agreement."

"See, you understand—but somehow Joe just doesn't get it."

"Amanda, is there anything else Pfaff said that you want to talk about?"

"Let me think for a bit." She thought and Lee went out to the kitchen and got both of them some more coffee. He handed her the refilled mug.

"Thank you, Lee." She took a sip. "Oh, he tried to make me agree it was OK to lie to mother and the boys."

"That's always been tough for you," Lee said sympathetically.

"Yes it has. I understand its part of the job—but I still hate it."

"See what I mean about twisting your head to be OK with the unpleasant stuff?"

"Oh yeah. He was concerned I'd blame you for being kidnapped—but I don't. I'm an adult and I've chosen to do this so the responsibility is mine. Besides, blame isn't helpful. I'll be lots more careful in the future—but blame you? I could never blame you—I'm grateful to you. After all, if you hadn't handed me that package…"

"You didn't have to take it—so I'm grateful to you as well." His thoughts continued his statement, 'for that and so much more…'

They gazed into each others' eyes for a few moments—then Amanda looked down and continued, "He did ask what I thought I had gained from the experience—that was actually helpful," she said with a touch of surprise. "And we talked about me getting agent training."

"Really!" Lee was surprised.

"He posed it as a 'what if' but still—it would be nice…"

"I agree—but the process is clearly spelled out—and you didn't pass Station One so…"

"I know. Still, it would be nice…" she pulled herself from her musings and continued, "He wanted to know how I resisted the drugs—he asked how I knew …" she trailed off and looked a bit lost.

"What?"

"Oh—I guess it's nothing. Let's see—he told me a statistic—that 237 shots are fired in the line of duty—and practice doesn't count—for every shot that hits an enemy. Is that true? Are you guys that bad at shooting?"

Lee chuckled. "Pfaff loves statistics. Personally I think that one is pure bull."

"Because you're lots better than that. Does that count the bad guys too, or just Agency personnel?"

"Amanda, just forget it. He wanted to make a point and so he used statistics to help persuade you. It's probably pure fantasy."

"Oh. Do you mean he … lied to me?"

"Maybe. He'd think of it as 'creative persuasion' or some other slippery term to justify it to himself. They play those games on themselves as well as their 'patients'."

"So when he asked about us sleeping together…" she mused to herself.

Lee's mind stopped in shock—did she mean what he thought she meant? His mind was whirling with images of himself and Amanda making love—holding her—kissing her—being together… Then he realized she was talking, and he dragged his mind back to the here-and-now.

"He was really interested about the times we slept together during that week. He took lots of notes about it. He tried to get me to say I … well—that it was more than it really was," she finished lamely.

Lee wondered what she had avoided saying—but thought it would be best to just address the issue at hand head-on. "Amanda, we did sleep together—three times. But that's all it was—sleep. You know I'd never take advantage of you like that…"

"Oh Lee—of course! I trust you totally. But he tried to make it sound—almost indecent."

Lee nodded, "Those psychiatrists see sex in everything."

"I guess."

"We know nothing happened…"

"Of course, Lee."

"I know how strongly you feel about sex and marriage…"

"I know—and you're sweet to be so considerate. And I don't think I've let you know how much I appreciate all you did for me."

"You did…"

She cut him off, "No, I didn't. Lee, I don't think I could have gotten through it all if you weren't there with me. You were the only thing that seemed real—you were the only one that was totally there for me. Even Mr. Melrose—well he cares but he has his agenda, too. You focused on me and helped me get better." Lee didn't know how to respond—he was at a loss for words. Amanda saw that and gave him an out, "You even gave up coffee for almost a whole week. That was a supreme sacrifice, and I thank you for that." She leaned over and softly kissed him on the cheek.

Lee was touched, but chose to respond in kind, "For you Amanda, nothing is too much. I told you—we're partners and I need you with me in the field." Then he decided to take a small risk, "My life is much better because you're in it with me."

Her eyes widened and she blushed, "Thank you, Lee. That's very nice of you to say that."

Lee's thoughts intruded again, 'God, how I want to kiss her—but now isn't the right time. We've got to get through all this crap Pfaff poured into her head.' Lee focused on his objective, "Was there anything else you talked about that made you feel bad?"

"You want to defuse all the time bombs, huh?"

"Yes."

She thought for a couple more minutes. "He had me talk about … daddy—my father. How he died and what it was like."

"Yeah, they like stuff like that. Are you OK about it? Talking about it, I mean? You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Oh Lee, it's not that. It happened a long time ago. It's just that—I didn't really think about it at the time—but now I feel … I don't know. I just wish I hadn't said anything to him. It's too … private and with all the other stuff he said to me—I guess I'm having second thoughts about it but I can't take it back. And … it hurts. Even after all this time, it still hurts." She sniffed and Lee pulled her closer and stroked her hair. She sighed a couple of times and then wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Lee. That helps a lot—to know that you care…"

"I care, Amanda. I care a lot. And I know what it's like—he had me talking about …" He stopped and then decided to continue, "He had me talk about Eric."

Amanda sat up and looked at him. "Eric, your partner that … died?"

"Yeah."

"Oh Lee. It still hurts, doesn't it?"

Lee could only nod.

She sounded more positive, "Well, I'm still here and I'm OK so you don't have to worry about me."

Lee smiled, "Yeah, you recovered—and I'm really glad about it—for you and me both." They smiled at each other. "So, how about that dessert?" he offered.

Amanda nodded.

He got up to get the desserts and called back, "You want more coffee with that?"

"No, I'm OK with what I have here," she called back.

He got their desserts and they ate in companionable silence. Lee mused to himself, 'He really tried to mess her up. Making her talk about her dad—that's taking advantage of her when she's vulnerable. I should kick his ass from here to Moscow and back. Maybe now she'll be more cautious—now that she knows more about how they try to twist your head—Oh God! He did it. She's not as naïve about the shrinks any more. She's been burned by them. God I hate that. She shouldn't be damaged by our own people—the bad guys do more than enough.'

They finished their desserts and sat side-by-side on the couch sipping their coffee, thinking their own thoughts. Then Lee got an idea.

"Amanda, I promised to take you to dinner and dancing afterward." She nodded. He continued, "What do you say? I'll put on a record and we'll dance…"

She nodded, "That would be nice. But I think I need to get home soon. I've had a wonderful dinner and I'm really glad we talked—but I'm starting to get tired…"

"Hey, it's OK. You've been through a lot and you still need to rest and recuperate. So one dance, and then I'll follow you and make sure you get home safely."

She started to protest and he laid a gentle finger on her lips.

"No arguments, Amanda. Please let me do this. Otherwise I'll just worry about you."

She looked surprised, "That's my line, Stetson."

"After this week, I think I get to worry about you, too," he replied.

"All right." She agreed. "We'll watch each others' backs—like always."

Lee put on some slow jazz and held his hand out to Amanda. She took it and stepped into his arms. They began to dance and as they moved together to the music they relaxed into each other. Amanda laid her head on Lee's shoulder, and Lee rested his cheek in her hair.

As the music played Lee realized this 'date' with Amanda hadn't turned out like he had planned. 'We ended up talking more than anything else—but Amanda really needed it. And I'm glad we could talk and defuse all those time bombs Pfaff planted in her head.'

He sighed and breathed in the scent of her perfume. He realized the way he was feeling right now was something new—holding Amanda—dancing slowly—feeling protective and caring for her so deeply—added to the love had already acknowledged—all that combined to create an overall aura of peace and a warm glow of happiness. Suddenly it wasn't just about the sex, or even love—but the whole package. He briefly wondered if this was the path that led to marriage—or at least a lifelong commitment. He knew that tonight there would be no romance—no kissing, not to mention sex—but he knew he was truly OK with that. The ties he and Amanda had forged since they met were so strong and deep that he knew it was now just a matter of time before things would progress to romance. And for once—he could let it happen as it would. Tonight was another milestone in their relationship—and now he was confident they could go on.

The music ended and they stepped apart. They gazed into each others eyes for a few minutes. Then Lee spoke, "You ready to head home now, Amanda?"

She smiled, then yawned, "Yeah—sorry Lee—it's been a long week, I guess."

"Yes it has, and you have nothing to apologize for. But you do have a lot to be proud of. Don't lose sight of that, Amanda. You're incredible, and I'm really lucky to have you as my partner."

"Thank you, Lee. But you had a lot to do with all of it."

Lee got her wrap, and they rode down to their cars. He escorted her to her car, and helped her in, then tenderly kissed her hand. "Goodnight Amanda."

"Goodnight, Lee. I had a lovely time, thank you."

"My pleasure, always."

Once Amanda was settled in and the door closed, he went to his 'Vette. They moved out—Amanda leading and Lee following closely. As she turned into her driveway, he blinked his lights and drove past. Then he circled back around the block and pulled to a stop a few houses down. Amanda had already gone into her house, and Lee waited while the lights went out in the kitchen, then on, and then off, in her bedroom. Feeling confident she was safe and secure for the night, he waited a few more minutes and then drove home.

He thought as he drove the familiar route, 'Boy, Pfaff sure tried to do a number on her. I'm glad I was able to help her shake out all the garbage he had dumped in her head.' He sighed, 'She's less innocent than she was. And it was Pfaff that helped do it—did he do that purposely? Probably not. He wouldn't see anything wrong with what he did. I'm just glad I was there for Amanda.'

His mind drifted to thoughts of a romantic relationship with his partner. 'Why have things taken so long with Amanda? I've never taken this long before with a woman. What is different with Amanda? Before tonight I just couldn't take that next step with her—I guess I was hoping Amanda would do it for me. Things have changed between us this last week—I just didn't see it all until tonight. I know I'm ready now. For the future. For our future—together.'

The End, of this interlude. Now, back to the regularly scheduled season 3 ending, All the World's a Stage.


End file.
